Deepest Darkness
by Blaze200038
Summary: Through the Deepest Darkness of despair and struggle, one cleric realizes his destiny- but at what cost?.. and to what end?... Again based on my OC, Jalan of Throrolund, and actual events I experienced in Dark Souls.


Darkness.

The deepest Darkness.

The sun and sky had faded away, while into Darkness I fell.

And fell.

And fell….

Till I began to make out a light.

A light, far below, coming out of the Darkness.

A soft glow, with the warmth of fire.

Suddenly a shape loomed out of the Darkness- a massive stone platform to which I plummeted. With despair I shut my eyes fast and muttered a last prayer to the All-Father, and waited for the end.

And waited.

And then I began to wonder what was taking so long.

And then I realized the wind had ceased to whip around me as I fell.

I slowly opened my eyes, and found myself lying atop a cushion of golden light. Gingerly shifting my weight, it began to fade, and I fell to my feet.

I stood for a moment, steadying myself, before slowly advancing. I climbed a short set of stairs, and found before myself with joy the Lordvessel. The mighty golden bowl held within it a tiny fire, burning from no fuel.

I set down the pack I had carried, and from it drew four small cases. I knelt to set them carefully among the gnarled roots of the pedestal that held the Lordvessel, before taking one and carefully opening it. Even through the magic black silk of my gloves, I could feel a certain heat and energy radiating from the contents.

Within the case was a small ball of what looked like fire- but upon closer inspection held at its center a small lump of shriveled flesh, with knobby bones protruding from and encircling it. I knew it to be the Soul of Gravelord Nito, the first of the Undead. I took it carefully in one hand and, holding it aloft, dropped it into the Lordvessel.

As it fell, the flame in the vessel, which grew significantly in intensity and size, consumed it. I did the same with the second case, whose flame's center was a sliver of dragon bone with pale, scaleless skin on it. The next was a clump of branches, whose fire burned hotter than any other. The fourth and final addition contained a fragmented and ancient object, indiscernible in form, but filled with malice.

When I had finished feeding it, the flame grew enormous, swelling to the edges of its vessel. It shone with a brilliant light that lit up the whole of the temple it rested in, and beyond the Lordvessel, a light glimmered.

Along the wall, a line of grayish-white light appeared along the rock, as slowly two massive doors swung open, revealing a brilliant white hallway. Almost laughing in amazement, I rose back up, peering through the flames. In the mist that engulfed the hallway, I thought I could see shapes- the figures of ancient knights, walking to and fro. And yet, they seemed so far away- like I was looking through time, to when such knights had followed their lord to this forsaken place.

I set about preparing myself for what I knew would lie ahead. I completely unrolled my pack, laying bare all I had carried on my journey. I took my Estus flask and hung it by my belt- I would surely need that. I had bundles of moss and jars of pine resin, but I left all those. I could not bear to be hindered by clutter in this trial. I took also a piece of white soapstone, for it would be most important. With that, I hung my long silver sword on my belt, hefted my great shield onto my back, and tied my talisman around my hand. I reflected briefly on that symbol of my faith- the white and gold cloth that had seen me through so many battles in the name of the sun. I checked my armor, before taking one last look over my belongings. So many things I would never use, nor need again, I thought.

I was about to set off when I bumped my foot against a large sword that had slipped by my gaze. I looked at it for a moment, before kneeling and lifting it. It was a sword forged from the humblest hilt of a blade and the soul of Sif, the Great Gray Wolf. I pondered this sword; it was said to be a recreation of the sword used by the knight Artorias. How great a man he must have been, I thought, to have blessed the most useless of weapons to become the embodiment of his power. On a whim, I slid the sword underneath my shield. Perhaps Artorias would bestow his strength upon me.

I entered the misty white hallway that lay before me, and, with a slight start, began my descent down stairs that blended perfectly into the light. As I walked, my anticipation grew with my heartbeat. What would I find here, I wondered, that required the souls of demigods as key? Nearing the bottom, I caught a glimpse that caused my heart to drop. Beyond the vale of light was a dimmer, grayer light, and what I could only think was a massive desert. When I reached the landing, I realized even more grimly, that it was not a desert of sand, but of ash.  
Far in the distance, I saw a massive structure, circling round a small mountain. The desert rolled off into the distance, but a small valley seemed to lead, by twists and turns, to the mountain.

I took a few more steps up, taking everything in. The landing was a large square of stone, with pillars at the far corners. I knelt down and cleared the ash from the ground near me, revealing in the stone the worn names of warriors long since gone and yet to come. I looked over them carefully, and managed to find a few I recognized from past battles. I took out my soapstone and began to trace one of the names, but as I did, something caught my eye. Towards the center of the platform, the ground glowed faintly red. Fearing the worst, I rested my hand on my sword and rushed over, sweeping the ash away with my foot.

As I suspected, I found fragments of a cloudy red stone scattered around a name, glowing a fierce red. I stepped back a few steps, poising myself for the invasion. I quickly muttered a prayer and slid my talisman down the length of the sword I held, and from it began to shine a brilliant light, tongues of fire, and arcs of lightning.

Before me, where the name had been a moment ago, a red figure rose from the ground. In one hand he held a knight's shield, with a seal of magic protection embossed into it- in the other, he held a wicked scythe. He looked at me for a moment, and I at him, before I shifted my weight forward and charged.

He raised his shield as I approached, and met my first blow with it. Sparks flew from the striking of metal on metal, and he stumbled back from the incredible force behind my slender sword. I continued to strike, with each successive blow driving him further back, until finally he hit one of the pillars. I grabbed my sword with both hands, trying to knock aside his shield with one mighty blow, but he deflected it fluidly. As I attempted to regain my balance, he swung his weapon at me in a wide slash, but I caught the handle below the blade with my left hand, and while he was disoriented, thrust with my sword.

The weapon hit his chest, piercing just above his third rib, and I drove it home until it grated against the stone pillar. The phantom convulsed once in agony as raw power coursed through his body, before I removed the sword and he fell weakly to the ground. He tried to raise himself with one arm, even as his spectral body faded away. As he did, I bowed deeply, paying my respects to this slain foe.

Sheathing my blade, I returned to what I had been doing when he interrupted. I finished tracing the name of the ground, and touched my hand to it. It illuminated itself, taking a bright white color as that champion was called forth, across boundaries of space and time. I did the same for the second, which glowed a golden yellow like the sun. As I watched, a brilliant white phantom rose from the first. I walked over bowed to him, according to custom. There were no words between us, for over miles and centuries, only actions, not words, are recalled. The second knight rose, this one embraced by an impressive golden aura. I made the symbol of the sun to him, and he reciprocated. Then, drawing my sword, I walked to the edge of the platform, to be joined by the others on either side of me. I held it high, and pointed it towards the towering structure in the distance. They both looked at me and nodded, readying their own weapons. The white warrior held in one hand a large sword, and in the other a primeval flame, the source of all pyromancy. The other carried an oversized blade that glowed like moonlight, and a large shield. Satisfied with their equipment, I stepped off the platform, and began our advance into the ashland.

Of course, no task is simple. Our advance was met with resistance. In the world above, we had all encountered Black Knights; former adherents of the Great Lord Gwyn, now wandering aimlessly without their master- but here, in this place, they abounded. Massive in stature, wielding weapons that dwarfed the largest we could carry, and skilled in their use, they were formidable foes alone- in groups, they were devastating.

We saw the first from a distance, and I gestured for my companions to spread out in case there were more. I charged him, leaping down from a ledge of stone, landing a palpable blow as I fell. I landed, and had to quickly roll out of the way to avoid the knight's enormous sword, which he wielded with incredible ease. I turned to face him and swung again, but he caught my blow effortlessly on his shield, knocking my attack aside, following up with a thrust. I barely sidestepped it, again swinging, and this time scoring a glancing blow on his sword arm. Enraged, he swung at me with the edge of his shield, but I slipped underneath his blow and behind him. Before he could regain his balance and turn, I grabbed him by one side and drove my sword into him. He arched his back in pain, before tumbling forward and releasing his soul- a soul thousands of times the power an average human's held. I caught in my hand, marveling at how far I had come.

This foe, a mighty warrior from the Age of Dragons, was slain by me, once a simple cleric of Throrolund. I clenched my fist on his soul, absorbing its power, and continued along the path.

We encountered several more Black Knights, before finally, we came to the outskirts of the structure around the mountain. Moving out of the valley, we could see it was a series of concentric rings, connected by bridges heading inwards. The ring we had reached surrounded a massive gorge, and the next ring contained the mountain that seemed our ultimate destination. Our only option was to circle until we could find a viable bridge; so many had crumbled to ruin and fallen into the immeasurable abyss. Finally, we found one, in poor shape, but clearly strong enough to carry us- we knew, for the Black Knights seemed totally sure of its strength. One stood guard at the far end, by the thinnest part. In the middle of the bridge, there was a pillar, from which another ring must have once stood- now, all but fallen.

We approached the bridge, and my golden companion began to set a foot on it, but I stopped him, shaking my head. He nodded understanding; the bridge was to narrow for us to cross all together, and this was my quest- if one of us was to charge headlong into danger it ought to be me. I took my first few steps slowly and carefully, before gaining some confidence in this immeasurably old architecture. I made it to the pillar without resistance, but as I rounded it, carefully sidling along the remnants of the ring, the Black Knight sprung into action, charging towards me.

I was all but sure that the pounding of his armored feet would send the bridge crumbling into oblivion, but it held fast. He opened our fight with a thrust, which I deflected into the pillar behind me. As his reverberating sword shook him, he swung at me his shield. Foolishly, I tried to block the massive object with my sword, which caught on the cross guard. To avoid being hurled into the chasm, I had to let it go- and so I did. I saw with dismay as it flew spinning into the depths.

Uncaring towards my loss, my adversary drew back his blade to strike me down. Feeling a strange calmness come over me, I quickly pulled from my back the sword I had on a whim taken with me, meeting his blade with mine. They were almost equal in size, but mine seemed to carry a greater force with it. The knight staggered back a few paces, startled by the sudden appearance of such a familiar and powerful weapon. With space now to prepare, I held the sword low towards the ground, took a step forward, and began a massive swing. As I did so, my foe drew back to thrust at me again- but in doing so opened himself to my attack. I brought up my blade with surprising speed, slashing the knight across his chest, with enough force to knock him back, and he struggled to keep from falling. I followed through with another, quicker horizontal strike, catching him off guard. This blow landed on his shoulder, dealing a shocking final blow to the knight. I was surprised as he fell- I had not expected that strike to be fatal. I looked at his wounds before he faded away- they were clean, almost surgical. It was as if the sword had intended to wound without causing pain. I looked at it in awe, as my companions applauded behind me. Their ruckus brought me back to sense, and we continued across the bridge.

We stopped on the far side briefly, to refocus and prepare ourselves for what I expected to be a final battle. Everything had lead up to this- my journey to Lordran, through its depths to its furthest corners, slaying countless demons and undead… it seemed that this was the fitting place to end it all.

With that in mind, we continued our advance, now down spiraling stairs around the mountain, sending two more knights to rest, before finally coming to the end of the long road. The landing was at a large opening in the mountain, and across the entrance was a sheet of fog too thick to see through. I approached and cautiously touched it- and it resisted. I knew from experience that I could will myself through it, but I was not prepared to do so yet. I took a step back, and looked at my companions. They seemed tense, readying themselves for whatever awaited us beyond this last gate. I took a swig of Estus, healing us all through our spiritual link, and removed my great shield from by back. It was a match for my sword, forged by the blessing of the same soul, and allowed for an almost impervious defense- at least, against what I had fought thus far.

Legend said that one day, an Undead would succeed Lord Gwyn. If this was so, he would need to be defeated, and this ancient god would not go easily.

Steeling myself for the coming ordeal, I pushed through the mist, and my companions followed. We entered an expansive hollow, which continued up, into the sky. There were scattered clusters of stalagmites all around, and in the center of it was a simple bonfire, like the ones I had encountered so many times before. Next to that simple bonfire he stood; the Great Lord of Cinder, Gwyn. He slowly turned to face me, even across the distance to him, and looked at me. His eyes were bright, and his beard seemed to smolder.

As my companions came out of the fog, he began to sprint for us. While the other two were still getting their bearings, I stepped forward, readying my shield for his assault. I saw now that he carried a massive sword, engulfed in flames. When he neared twenty paces or so, he leapt into the air and delivered a mighty blow across my shield as he landed. Even from behind it, the heat of his attack wore harshly against me, and I felt drained by the effort it took me to hold up the bulwark that protected me. To the left, my fellow Sunlight Warrior charged, stealing Gwyn's attention with a wide slash. Despite distracting him from me, it hardly seemed to scratch the Lord of Cinder. On my right, the other phantom hurled a massive fireball that exploded against Gwyn's back, spraying plumes of flame and globs of lava that reignited long-dead fires in the ash.

I stepped back, taking another drink from my flask to recuperate, before charging. I held my shield before me and my sword behind as I wound up for a ponderous thrust, which struck Gwyn's backside as he pursued the golden warrior. He quickly spun about and kicked me with great force, knocking me back as he advanced to thrust at me, an attack that I frightfully dodged. Another fireball drew his attention from me, and the other phantom quickly took it from our magus again. In a fury, Gwyn grabbed the golden warrior with his empty hand and lifted him into the air. I watched in terror as flames surged toward that hand, exploding upon my ally, propelling him through the air. He hit a stalagmite and fell limply to the ground, his life and soul ebbing from his ethereal form.

I had no time to dwell on this loss, however; Gwyn quickly refocused his attention on me. He began a whirling series of attacks, battering me with force and fire. I backed further off with each attack, my only alternative to being overwhelmed. Finally, a good block gave me an opening. I moved my shield aside and struck Gwyn across the chest with my sword, disorienting him. He staggered back, and I followed with another hit, and then another. Perhaps it was my overconfidence- I advanced to quickly, made afoul of an attack, and got hit with the brunt force of his blade. I was knocked back, my flesh seared by the heat. Disoriented, I dropped my shield, barely clinging to my sword. Gwyn stood over me, about to deliver a final blow, when another fireball hit him from behind. He turned in fury to face the other phantom, who now charged with his sword, quickly striking Gwyn several times. But the mighty Lord was barely fazed by his blows; he whipped his flaming sword at the specter, dealing him a fatal blow.

I had just arisen in time to see the pain shoot across his face, watch him fall to the ground and begin to fade away. With tears in my eyes, tears of fury, hope, and despair I lowered my sword to the ground, pointing behind me. I crouched low as I began to charge forward. Just as Lord Gwyn turned, I brought my blade up, and with a ferocious cry struck him from hip to far shoulder, rending his chest. He stumbled back, whipping his head as he did so, his ancient crown falling to the ground. He fell on his knees before me, the life already fading from him. I took up my sword, one last time, and with one fell swoop, killed the Lord of Cinder. His head rolled to the ground, while his body fell lifeless.

I fell to my knees, dropping my sword, not even noticing as the power of a hundred thousand souls poured out of his body. I wept, then. I weep now. For the souls of the innocent; for all the Undead, branded and chased to this cruel land. For everyone I had lost; for everyone I had hurt. Worst of all, I wept for whoever would follow me.

I scooped up the ball of fire that was Lord Gwyn's soul, holding it in both hands. I let my sword remain where it had fallen. I walked slowly to the bonfire- barely a pile of embers. I knelt on both knees beside it, prostrating myself reverently. After a long moment, I released Lord Gwyn's Soul, letting it roll into the fire. It grew, but only slightly- the soul could not be consumed by such a mere blaze. I knew what I had to do.

I reached out with one hand, and touched the ancient staff in the center of the bonfire. As I did so, the fire welled up; it took in the power of the old Lord of Cinder, just as it ushered in the new. The flames crept up the pole, but I held my hand fast to it. The flames licked at my hand, and as if finding fuel for the first time, hungrily lapped along my arm. The fire began to burn me, but I did not feel pain. I felt power. And I felt fear.

I stood up as the fire began to engulf me; Lord Gwyn's body was already wasting away, into ash. A train of knights was slowly entering the hollow, the Kiln of the First Flame. They surrounded the entrance, saluting me. I nodded to them, and they slowly departed. I turned to the bonfire, now being fully engulfed in the flame, and I stood there and thought.

No one man's power can remain eternal.

Who next will link the fires, and rekindle the world?

And how many times more will people rise to this occasion?

How long till the Age of Fire ends….


End file.
